


Deliver My Heart

by elfenphoenix



Series: Delivery Boy [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Delivery Boy AU, Keith as delivery boy, M/M, Some Swearing, also a lot of flirtation in flower language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 04:37:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11177178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfenphoenix/pseuds/elfenphoenix
Summary: Keith's delivery schedule almost always involves at least one package to the same house, from the same address. He's a bit curious to find out the owner, but he hadn't really expected that when he did, he'd find himself falling in love.





	1. The House with the Blue Door

Keith sighed as he looked at the next address he was supposed to deliver to. He’d been to that house sooo many times in the past few weeks, he was kind of getting sick of looking at its blue-painted front door.

If it had been some old recluse living exclusively off of mail-order stuff, he wouldn’t really have thought anything was weird (since he regularly delivered to _plenty_ of people like that), but this house didn’t _look_ like it belonged to a recluse. It wasn’t the nicest place in the world, with some shingles falling off and a distinctive dip in the roof, but most houses in the area looked like that. In fact, this one actually looked pretty well cared-for. Its siding was freshly painted white, and the lawn may have been extremely untidy by lawn standards, but that was because it _wasn’t_ a lawn at all. It was a full-yard garden, mixed evenly between berries and flowers, entirely bursting with color. It looked like somebody spent a lot of time out here.

Nor did the packages themselves look like they were mail-order delivery, since the address was always handwritten directly onto the cardboard in permanent marker, and the return address was somebody’s name, not a company.

But, despite the number of times Keith had been there, he had never seen the house’s occupant. Bad timing, he guessed. Not that he really _needed_ to see them, since the nice thing about being a UPS delivery guy was that most of the time you don’t actually need to interact with people-- you just drop the package onto the doorstep, knock on the door, and run.

But still, Keith was curious.

He hoped it wasn’t a harassment thing, all of the packages sent to the same address. It sounded awful, but even if it _was_ harassment, he was obligated to deliver the packages _anyway_. UPS was just a middle-man, after all.

Keith pulled off to the side of the street, got out, then grabbed the package from the back of the truck. Oh-- this one was kind of heavy.

He picked his way through the garden, shifting the box’s weight onto his hip, then set it down with a _thud_ next to the door. He waited a bit, half-hoping the house’s owner would come out, then sighed and started walking back to his truck.

But then- the sound of the screen door opening.

Keith’s heart jumped with excitement, and he turned around quickly to see the person the packages were for.

It was a boy-- well, a young man, really-- in his early twenties, probably close to the same age as Keith. And tall-- all long limbs and thin muscle. He leaned against the doorframe, sighing down at the package and rubbing the back of his neck before looking up at Keith. He grinned, white teeth flashing against his dark skin.

“Um, hey, you don’t think you guys could, uh, stop delivering these things to me?”

Keith winced, glancing back at the truck. “Sorry, but we just deliver them. If the person’s harassing you, you’ll have to take it to the police before we can do anything about it.”

The boy in the doorway shrugged. “Nah, it’s never anything nasty. I don’t have the money to send it back most of the time, since it’s always UPS instead of the post office. I just kinda wish she’d leave me alone,” he said, grabbing ahold of the box and lifting it with a groan. He paused in the doorway, smiling at Keith again. “But thanks. I’m Lance, by the way.”

“I know,” Keith replied automatically, internally kicking himself the moment the words left his mouth. It made him sound like a creep, but really it was because he’d seen the name “Lance Mcclain” in the address enough times to have it memorized.

Still, awkward!

“Um, bye, then.”

Keith hurried back to his truck, still recoiling from “I know”. As he settled himself back into the driver’s seat, he heard Lance’s screen door swing shut, and then, out of the corner of his eye, saw the blue door close.

He quickly drove away, trying not to think about the cute guy who lived in that house.

~~~~~

The next time Keith arrived at the house with the blue door, the package was fairly small. Keith debated just leaving it in the mailbox so he could save himself the embarrassment of seeing Lance again, but then reminded himself not to be a coward. He’d been to Lance’s house dozens of times by then and only seen him once, so the chances of seeing him again were slim.

He was leaning over to set the package down on the front step when the door swung open, hitting him in the head.

“OW!” Keith shouted, jumping back and glaring up at Lance, rubbing the top of his head. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? I told you already-- there’s nothing I can do about your packages.”

“Woah, woah, cool your jets! It was just an accident!” Lance waved his hands in front of himself, then reached down to grab the package. “I’m not so dumb that I’d take out my frustration on the delivery boy,” he explained, straightening.

“Frustration? I thought you said they weren’t anything bad?” Keith couldn’t help but ask.

Lance sighed, looking down at the package as if embarrassed. “Yeah… actually it’s always stuff I really like.”

“So why does it bother you?”

Lance chucked the package into the house behind him, leaning against the doorway as he talked to Keith. “They’re from my ex-girlfriend.”

“O-oh.” Keith tried to bury the slight sting he felt. He’d noticed the female-sounding name in the return address. Who had he _thought_ it would be from?

“At first she was just mailing me stuff I left at her apartment,” Lance explained, “but then she started mailing me some of my favorite stuff, saying, ‘I saw this and thought of you. Love you, please come back,’ and all that. It was kind of cute, at first, but now it’s getting kind of creepy.”

“Why’d you break up? Just curious.” Yup. Just curious.

Lance shrugged. “Nothing really that bad. I just didn’t think we fit that well together. She was really cute, but we didn’t have that much in common. So when me and Hunk decided to move out here, I thought it was probably a good idea to break it off. Guess it wasn’t so good of an idea after all.”

Keith laughed, then covered his mouth, surprised at himself. He usually hated interacting with customers. What was he doing?

Lance’s eyes widened a little, and then his charming smile spread itself across his face again. “Apparently she didn’t like the idea of me moving here to try to be an astronaut. That it was ‘a dumb idea and I’ll just come back to her in the end once I realize that.’ But between you and me? I always try to go for it, even if it does seem like a dumb idea,” he said with a wink. “Which reminds me…” he stepped out into the garden, then leaned down to delicately pluck one of the tulips, pinching it off near the bottom of the stem with his long, thin fingers. It was interestingly colored-- a mix of yellow streaked with red-orange, like a paintbrush someone had forgotten to clean properly before using again. Lance straightened, holding the tulip out to Keith. “Shouldn’t you be going back to work?”

Keith took the flower, a bit too stunned to say anything, before Lance’s words sunk in.

“Oh, shit!” He turned to go back to his still-running truck, then stopped, calling back to Lance, “Oh, I’m Keith, by the way.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “I know.”

Wait, what? Was he just making fun of Keith for the last time they’d met, or--

“Nametag, dude,” Lance said with a snort, gesturing to the thin piece of plastic clipped to the lapel of Keith’s work polo.

“O-oh. Well… see you next time!” Keith called back, hurrying back to his truck so Lance couldn’t see his face redden.

All of the drive home, he kept glancing at the tulip Lance had given him, where he’d set it on the dashboard, doing his best to drive carefully so he didn’t jostle it too much. He’d been too surprised at being _given_ the flower that he hadn’t thought about _why_ Lance had given it to him. Just a friendly gesture? Kind of a “thanks for putting up with me” thing? Or…

His curiosity burned at him so much that as soon as he got done with his deliveries for the day, he hurried back home and immediately set the tulip into a jelly jar filled with water (it was all he had), then tried to figure out what the flower meant by Googling whatever seemed relevant. He doubted, even if it _did_ have any kind of significance, that Lance would even have known about it. He seemed too laid-back and carefree.

Keith grinned to himself at that thought. And this guy wanted to be an astronaut? No way.

Finally, Keith found what he was looking for- a list of tulips and their meanings, complete with pictures. He found one that matched, and carefully read over the description, then again, just to make sure he hadn’t misread it.

_Variegated Tulip: “You have beautiful eyes.”_

He felt his face heat up, and immediately closed out of the webpage. Yeah, no way Lance had done that on purpose.

~~~~~

The next time Keith came to make a delivery, Lance was already outside, dressed in a tank top and a ragged pair of jeans as he painted the front of the house. Much of the white paint had already found its way onto Lance’s clothes and skin, but he didn’t seem to notice, whistling to himself as he worked. He turned around when Keith cut the truck’s engine, as if the absence of sound was more disruptive than the sound itself.

He grinned when he saw Keith, pulling a pair of earbuds out of his ears. “Hey, you’re back!”

Keith waved, grabbing Lance’s box out of the back of the truck and making his way through the garden. “It didn’t really look like it needed repainting…” he commented as he looked up at the freshly-white walls.

“Nah, not really,” Lance said with a shrug. “But one of the art students gave me this paint, and I don’t really know what else to do with it. I like taking care of the house, anyway. You should’ve seen it when we first moved in. It looked like someone’d been murdered here.”

Keith laughed, trying to imagine the picturesque house as one out of a horror movie. It just didn’t work for him. “Do you take care of the garden, too?”

“No, that’s Hunk, mostly. He likes to cook and bake, and he always insists that fresh ingredients are the best and a green grass lawn is a waste of space,” Lance replied, taking the package from Keith’s hands. “He lets me pick out the flowers, though.”

He started back toward the door, then stopped, looking back at Keith. “Hey… you wanna come in? Hunk made lemon bars, if you want some.”

Keith hesitated. To be honest, he’d rearranged his delivery schedule so that Lance’s house was the last stop, allowing him to spend as much time there as he wanted. But admitting that to Lance didn’t seem like the best idea. “Sure, I’ve got some extra time.”

Lance flashed his signature grin, then held the door open for Keith with his free hand. Heartbeat speeding up a bit, Keith stepped through, looking around. It actually looked fairly organized and clean, for a place a pair of guys lived. A few pictures hung on the walls, some of them looking like family photos, but most of them were of Lance and two friends- one big, one small-- in the midst of a bunch of shenanigans. Sitting on a hill at night, Lance pointing excitedly at the starry sky while the small friend squinted into a telescope. The three of them launching a weather balloon with a bunch of stuffed animals strapped to it, or taking a selfie together, a rocket taking off in the background.

“You really _do_ want to be an astronaut,” Keith observed, turning back to Lance.

“What, you thought I was kidding?” Lance answered, setting the box down onto the only part of the house that looked messy- a huge pyramid of cardboard boxes lining the entryway, all from the same address. He straightened, strolling over to Keith. “I’ve wanted to be one ever since my parents saved up to send me to the NASA space camp when I was eleven. Best week of my life. That’s where I met Hunk and Pidge, and we’ve been friends ever since,” he explained, pointing to a photo of the same trio, but much younger, the small one in the middle, proudly holding up a robot.

“I always wanted to go to space camp,” Keith admitted. “I guess we’re not too different-- I always wanted to be an astronaut, too.”

“Wait, really?!” Lance’s eyes widened, flicking between Keith and the pictures. “What’re you doing being a delivery guy, then?”

Keith shrugged. “I have to pay for my classes somehow.”

Lance frowned. “Wait, do you take classes at the college downtown, too?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?! Me too! Why didn’t I ever see you there?”

“Well, I always take night classes because of my day job, so we’re probably never there at the same time.”

“Ohhhhh, so you’re probably there at the same time as Pidge, then,” Lance remarked, starting to head into the living room, and waving for Keith to follow him.

“I don’t know anyone named Pidge, though…”

Lance laughed, disappearing into the kitchen, calling out, “that’s not her real name. Me and Hunk just call her that because pigeons kept trying to destroy her robot when we were at space camp.” He returned, holding a small plate of lemon bars and a glass of water. “Her real name’s Katie.”

“Wait, you mean Katie Holt, Robotics and Comm Tech double major?” Keith had run into her a few times, and had quickly learned to not get on her bad side. She had a tendency to make everyone else in class feel like an idiot, and had no problem calling out a professor who got his equations wrong.

“That’s her!”

So the small one in Lance’s photos… that had been Katie Holt? She looked _way_ different with her hair long. When he said as much to Lance, he just laughed, saying that Pidge got really annoyed that her ponytail kept getting caught in her various robotics projects, so she’d just cut it off.

Lance went on to tell more stories about himself and his friends, while they munched away at the lemon bars. Getting banned from bot-fights because Pidge’s robot was so vicious it tore apart the competition so quickly that the refs didn’t think it was fair anymore, he and Pidge covering for Hunk when he had an anxiety attack before a major test, all kinds of crazy stuff.

They talked for quite a while, about whatever came to mind. Keith was surprised at how _easy_ it was to talk to Lance. Tell him about training to be a helicopter pilot instead of an astronaut, even joking about it being only a step above UPS delivery guy.

Eventually, Keith looked out the window and realized that the sun was starting to go down-- he’d better leave, or he’d be late for his physics class.

Lance accompanied him to the door and out into the garden, but instead of saying goodbye, he pulled a white camellia flower from the bush next to the door and tucked it into Keith’s breast pocket.

“Are you just going to give me flowers every time I leave?” Keith asked, trying to sound nonchalant, which was difficult when his heart felt like it was going to explode, and he was starting to admit to himself that he had a serious crush on this boy.

Lance winked. “I always thought that flowers and pretty boys went together.”

Keith tried to protest, but the words kept getting caught in his throat. Was that flirtation? Was Lance flirting with him? He didn’t know. He was pretty sure he’d never been flirted with before.

“W-well, if they do, then I think you should keep them,” Keith shot back, before fleeing to his truck.

Stupid. That just made it sound like he didn’t _want_ Lance to give him flowers. What he’d meant was that if pretty boys and flowers went together, then Lance, who was too pretty for Keith to handle, didn’t have _enough_ flowers.

But, still… he couldn’t help but grin like an idiot as he drove back to his workplace to drop off the truck, then walked back home. He was almost late for classes, because he couldn’t help but take some extra time to look up the meaning behind the white camellia:

_“You are perfect; without blemish; you are adorable.”_


	2. Friends

Keith’s life fell into a regular rhythm. After getting back from his night classes, he would get his homework done and then immediately crash, only to wake up early the next morning, eager to get to work. And then he would hurry through his other deliveries, so that he might be able to spend more time at the house with the blue door.

He really looked forward to it, every day. Talking with Lance felt… comfortable, even if they’d started a friendly rivalry over who could actually make it to NASA first. Lance told him that Hunk already had both of them beat, since he was already working full-time as an engineer at the nearby research lab while still taking a few online classes, and it was mainly on Hunk’s paycheck that he and Lance afforded the house, although Lance tried to help out as much as he could. He did joke about two bachelors buying a house together like a married couple, though, then explained that it was because Hunk needed some room to work that a teeny-tiny apartment just didn’t have.

There was always something new to talk about, sometimes outside in the garden, sometimes inside in the living room, munching on whatever Hunk’s newest baked goodie was.

They talked about having the same hero: Takashi Shirogane, pilot AND astronaut, both of them still feeling like they had a long way to go before they reached him.

They talked about Pidge, Lance telling Keith that she really wasn’t as scary as he made her sound-- she just tended to understand computers better than people. But she was actually pretty cool to have as a friend.

They talked about their jobs, Keith complaining about the relative monotony of delivery work, and Lance refusing to admit what his real part-time job was, instead saying that he was an underwear model, or a professional test subject, or a pitcher for the nearby minor league baseball team, or an English tutor. But he would never say what his _real_ job was.

Once or twice, Lance would sometimes talk about his ex-girlfriend, how he really wanted her to let him go and stop sending him presents all the time, but he’d broken it off the way he had because he really didn’t want to hurt her feelings more than necessary. To which Keith had to remind him that what she was doing was technically harassment, and he probably needed to face her directly, but hey, it’s not like relationship advice from Keith meant much, since he’d never actually been in one.

Almost every time, Keith would lose track of time and stay way too long at Lance’s house (well, Hunk’s house, technically), and have to hurry to leave so he wouldn’t be late for his night classes.

And, as always, Lance would say goodbye with a flower from the garden, never actually telling Keith what they meant, which also meant that Keith still wasn’t sure whether Lance himself even knew what they meant. It was different every time, since, even in that carefully-maintained garden, different flowers bloom at different times, especially as early spring faded into summer. A white violet, a yellow gladiolus, a pink Asian Lily, a delicate blue morning glory, a purple-and-yellow iris, even a pink rose.

The girl who worked the front counter at his UPS station had started to inquire after all of the flowers, asking if he had a sweetheart, and he could only answer that he wasn’t sure.

He’d actually purchased a vase to put all of the flowers he’d accumulated from Lance into, keeping it right at his desk so that he could glance at the colorful bouquet every few minutes while he did his homework. He always felt sad every time one of them started to wilt.

And then it was always back to class, sitting in his unassigned-assigned seat, in the back corner of the room, dutifully getting his notebook and pen ready, and absolutely not talking to any of his classmates.

At least until a pair of hands slapped against the top of his desk, and he looked up to see Katie Holt-- Pidge-- standing over his desk and frowning down at him. “Hey, you’re Keith, right? The delivery guy Lance is always talking about?”

 _He’s always talking about me?_ Keith thought, but instead answered, “yeah, I guess.”

Pidge continued frowning at him for a few seconds, as if evaluating him, but then finally, her frown melted into a cautious-but-friendly smile. She held out a hand for a handshake. “Hi, I’m Katie, but you can call me Pidge. I know we’ve been in the same class all semester, but I figured, since you know Lance, we might be friends. Common ground, y’know?”

She was pretty direct, but Keith didn’t really have a problem with that. And being friends with a genius like Pidge was probably a good idea.

And friends they were. Keith didn’t understand half of what she said most of the time, since he wasn’t exactly an expert in robotic engineering or computer programming, but it was still nice to see how passionate she was about what she did. She’d probably be a TA if she’d stop back-talking the professors, which Keith related to, since he’d frequently gotten in trouble in his summer piloting lessons for not doing as the instructor told.

It was through his friendship with Pidge that Keith learned more about Lance, too, including the truth about his job. Apparently, as ridiculous as they had sounded, Lance had actually kind of been telling the truth-- about all of them. According to Pidge, Lance felt bad about relying too much on Hunk, so he picked up temp jobs whenever he found them. He did occasionally volunteer to test out some new painkillers, since doing so actually paid handsomely. He sometimes worked as a ball boy for the minor-league team, sometimes even pitching to batters for practice, since he had a decent curveball. He actually _was_ an English tutor, but not in a Shakespearean literature kind of way. Since he himself was a second-generation immigrant from Cuba, he often tutored third-grade Hispanic kids in getting their English good enough to participate in school.

And, Pidge finally told him, while Lance wasn’t actually an underwear model, he was actually one step higher-- she’d discovered from her friend Allura in the art department that Lance’s most recent job was as a nude model for the art classes. Keith kept his mouth firmly shut about what that information made him imagine. He kept having to remind himself that there was nothing sexy about a bunch of kids covered in charcoal and graphite, probably crying since they can’t quite get the arms to look proportionate, let alone the parts down below. Not… that he knew what that was like.

...Okay, so he’d taken _one_ art class. Never again. The frustration would kill him. But knowing that Lance was the pose model, he was starting to reconsider.

~~~~~

Sometimes, when Keith came to Lance’s house to deliver the usual present from the crazy ex-girlfriend, Lance actually wouldn’t be home. But even when he wasn’t there, he almost always left a note for Keith somewhere, on the front step tucked under a rock, or stuck to the front door, with a picture of a flower drawn on it, with something like “I have to stay late today to work on a group project. See you tomorrow!” or “have to work tonight, so here’s a flower for the pretty boy,” accompanied by a carefully-drawn moonflower given life with a silver-inked gel pen.

Keith had started collecting those, too.

One of the times Lance wasn’t home, though, there was no sticky note. Instead, it was Lance’s friend Hunk that opened the door.

Keith was a bit surprised that he hadn’t met Hunk before, but Lance had told him that apparently Hunk worked weird hours, where he didn’t go into work until noon, but also stayed there until late at night. Which also probably explained why Hunk looked so exhausted.

“Um, hey. Just here to drop something off for-- er-- Lance Mcclain.”

“I know,” Hunk answered. “He keeps cutting flowers from _my_ garden so he can give them to you,” he said, sounding a bit annoyed. “But I guess it’s okay, since he promised to take care of the flowers himself if I let him keep doing it.”

“Um… yeah, that’s good, I guess. Sorry… that he does that.”

Hunk shrugged. “He’s Lance. Once he decides to do something, making him stop is almost impossible. It’s gotten me and Pidge into _way_ too much trouble over the years.” He took the box from Keith’s hands and dropped it onto the box-pyramid. He then turned back to Keith, looking down at him thoughtfully, maybe even suspiciously.

“Hey, do you have a crush on Lance?”

Keith almost choked on his own heart. “W-what?! I-- well-- he’s, um…”

“Take that as a yes.”

Keith looked down at his feet. Hunk was dead-on.

Hunk sighed, then disappeared into the house for a second, returning with a small cardboard box with the top cut off. “Look, man, like I said, there’s no stopping Lance once he gets something in his head. Which, I promise you, I tried to tell his ex like five thousand times. But she still thinks he’s gonna give up and go back to her, which is the whole reason you’re here. Because of her.”

Keith frowned, looking at his feet again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be a problem. I can… switch routes, if I need to.”

“What? No no no no no no don’t do that-- that’ll kill him!” Hunk answered, looking genuinely terrified by that idea. “Look, I just don’t want my friend to get hurt. He’s had a bad time thanks to his last relationship, and I don’t want that to happen again.”

“I’m not… I’m not insane, you know. I don’t think he even likes me that way, so don’t worry about it.”

Hunk stepped back, making an expression Keith couldn’t interpret, then shook his head and said, “anyway, he wanted me to give this to you.” He held out the box, and Keith took it, peering into its contents.

“Strawberries?” he remarked with surprise. They looked plump and red and tasty, but Lance had always given him flowers, never fruit.

“Oh, no, the strawberries are from me. The flowers are from Lance. I just wanted to say thanks. For putting up with this stuff for so long.”

Keith smiled hesitantly, plucking one of the purple clover flowers resting atop the strawberries out of the box, rolling its stem between two fingers. “No, thank you. I’m glad there’s someone to worry about him. You’re a good guy, you know that, Hunk?”

Hunk smiled, a big, friendly smile that made him look like a giant huggable teddy bear. “Thanks, man. Now get out of here and get to class on time for once. Pidge says you’re late to class seventy percent of the time.”

Oops.

~~~~~

Not long after the spring semester came to an official close, and Keith started gearing himself up for his summer flying lessons, he arrived to see Lance sitting shirtless in a lawnchair in the middle of the garden, a pair of reflective sunglasses over his eyes.

He sat up as soon as Keith parked the truck, his trademark grin spreading across his face.

Keith tried not to stare as he made his way to the garden. “Do you actually _need_ to get a tan?”

“I know, I’m already tall, dark, and handsome, so putting in too much effort would just be unfair to the world.”

Keith rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to agree with him. Lance was annoyingly well-built.

But Lance just kept on talking, taking the usual box from Keith, inviting him inside, and saying that he has to talk to him, all in one breath, it seemed. When Keith wasn’t moving fast enough, he grabbed his wrist and pulled him along, hurrying him into the house’s living room. Finally he sat down in the easy chair across from Keith, somehow managing to smile eagerly and fidget, all at once.

“So… I’m gonna stand up to my ex,” he finally said. “I’m taking your advice.”

“ _My_ advice?” Keith exclaimed incredulously. “Didn’t I say that my advice probably isn’t worth much since I’ve never been in a relationship?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but you’re right. I’m acting like an idiot about this. I didn’t want to admit it, but at first, I didn’t really want to let her go. Even though I knew what she was doing was kinda sucky. But then I met you because of her, and it made me want to stop her even less.”

Alarm bells went off in Keith’s head.

“Because it let me talk to you almost _every day_ , and I liked that,” Lance continued, his voice speeding up with every word. But then he leaned forward, his face turning serious. “But I need to move on. I _want_ to move on. I just… wanted you to know that.”

Keith’s heart was in his throat again. “So… what are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna have Pidge hack into her bank account.”

“WHAT?!”

“I’m just kidding,” Lance chuckled. “I’m just gonna call her and say that if she doesn’t stop, I’ll have to get a restraining order, since I’ve saved up enough money to pay for the legal fees. I’ll be done with this whole mess.”

Keith tried to stay calm. Tried not to think about how this meant he no longer had a reason to see Lance every day.

“Isn’t this good?”

“Y-yeah.”

“You don’t… seem that happy,” Lance noted, his excited smile melting into a frown.

“No, no, I am,” Keith replied, his chest feeling tight. “I’m happy for you. I just… have a bit of a headache.”

 _Lie_.

“Oh, do you want me to get you something? I think Hunk has some painkillers in here, somewhere. I know for sure he has stomach meds, at least.”

“No, no, that’s okay. I should… I should go, anyway. I have other deliveries to do.”

_Lie._

“Oh… okay. Well… before you go…” Lance got up, went into his room, and then returned with a small bouquet of pink, purple, and blue sweet peas, handing it to Keith. “For the pretty boy with a headache.”

Keith forced a smile. “Thanks, Lance.”


	3. Flowers

The last time Keith delivered a package to the house with the blue door, Lance was sitting out in the garden, pulling up weeds and dumping them into a five-gallon bucket. There was an endearing streak of dirt on his forehead, probably from trying to wipe the sweat away. He stood up when he saw Keith arrive, pulling his gardening gloves off.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“So… is this the last one?” Keith asked.

Lance nodded. “She said there were seven more already coming before she stopped, and this makes seven.”

“Alright, then,” Keith answered, handing the box over to Lance. He was doing his best to sound nonchalant, unattached, but instead it just came out awkward. Why had he allowed himself to get so attached in the first place? He wasn’t Lance’s friend, not really, and he definitely wasn’t anything more than that. He was just the delivery guy.

“I guess I won’t see you every day anymore,” Lance commented, fidgeting. “Unless… you still wanted to talk, sometimes.”

“I can’t just come all the way to the other side of town for no reason,” Keith answered, the words tasting like bile as they escaped his mouth.

“Oh… right. Well, I guess, if there’s anything you need to tell me, you can talk to Pidge.”

“Sure, Lance.” He started to head back to the truck, but Lance grabbed his wrist, his other hand gently pulling open Keith’s fingers, pressing a sprig of tiny blue flowers into his hand.

“They’re called forget-me-nots. Not gonna lie, eighty percent of the reason I picked them was because I liked the name. But they’re still kind of pretty. I, uh, just wanted to say thanks. You really helped me move forward.”

“No problem.”

_Lie._

~~~~~

As Lance’s ex had promised, there were no more packages going to the house with the blue door. Every few days, there would be something to deliver elsewhere in the neighborhood, but every time Keith would see the blue door, and the garden full of flowers and fruits, he sped up a little. If he didn’t, he’d be way too tempted to stop.

Summer cooled into fall, and the color abounding in Hunk’s garden faded into brown, just like everything else. But that wasn’t important.

With the fall semester, Keith returned to school, going through his usual routine of ignoring the rest of his classmates.

_THWACK!_

Keith jumped, finding himself face-to-face with Pidge, who looked like she was ready to electrocute him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Uhh…”

She looked exhausted, the bags under her eyes darker than her hair. “Do you know how many late-night phone calls from Lance I’ve had to deal with, because he wants to see you again, but you acted like you didn’t care?!”

Keith blinked. “Uh… a few?”

“Thirty-two. _Thirty-two_ , Keith. Can you imagine how annoying that is?! I’m not a romance expert, but I’m pretty sure you broke his fucking heart. So great fucking job. Hunk is gonna fucking kill you, if I don’t do it first.”

Keith stared up at her in equal parts shock and fear. For a four-foot-nine girl who weighed about a hundred pounds soaking wet, the way Pidge was looking at him was scary enough to curdle blood.

“Pidge… what are you talking about? He was just being friendly. You told me yourself… he acts that way with everyone.”

Pidge paused, her mouth open, and then pressed her fingers into the crease between her eyebrows, shaking her head and muttering to herself, “oh dear God, I was so wrong. They’re _both_ morons.”

She slapped her hands against the desk again, looking at him critically. “He gave you _flowers!_ Literally every time he saw you! Sometimes even if he didn’t see you! _Obviously_ he was flirting with you!”

Keith blinked again. “I thought… he was just thanking me for being so patient.”

“You really think Lance is considerate enough to do that?” she snorted. “He literally gave you a bouquet of sweet peas in the colors of the bisexual flag. If that doesn’t scream ‘hello, I have an ex-girlfriend but I’m totally into you now,’ I don’t know what does.”

Keith didn’t know how to handle all of this. He was starting to feel a little nauseous. “But I thought… he just picked those out at random…”

“Oh, please. Lance’s parents are florists. He knows _exactly_ what they all mean.”

“Oh.”

He couldn’t believe he’d been missing all of those hints all of this time. He’d always been certain that he was reading too much into it, hoping for more than what he was actually being given. So much so that he still wasn’t sure that it was real.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Look, Keith, I wouldn’t give a shit about any of this if Lance weren’t bugging me about it. So yes, I’m pretty fucking sure. D’you know how excited he was to tell you that he was finally gonna put his foot down against his ex? To tell you that he was finally ready to move on? He had so much extra energy I could have recharged my laptop with it. Now just who do you think he wanted to move on _for_?

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and flexing her fingers in an effort to relax. When her eyes opened again, her expression had softened a bit. “I care about Lance as much as I do my own brother. So I notice things. I noticed that even if he didn’t always act like it, he was really worried about moving out here, breaking up with his girlfriend. He’s never been super smart, but his grades dropped; he couldn’t hold down a job to save his life. But I also noticed that as soon as he met you, he started to get better. Grades went up higher than they’ve ever been before. He started helping Hunk out more… even stopped staying late after classes to flirt with girls because he just _had_ to be home in time to see you. So stop being an idiot and go talk to him, before I kill you myself.”

~~~~~

Well, Keith couldn’t very well just show up at Lance’s door for no reason. Especially if Hunk, the protective friend, was likely to be there. But he _needed_ to go. Even without Pidge’s threats, Keith had wanted to return to the house with the blue door with every fiber of his being.

As he got up in the morning and saw the withered and crumbling remains of the flowers he hadn’t had the heart to throw away, he had an idea. It would be dumb, and cheesy, but he might as well go for it.

He hurried to get ready, so that he would have some time before he had to report in for work. He had somewhere to go, first.

~~~~~

Keith really hoped Lance was home, or this would be extremely awkward. It was probably going to be extremely awkward anyway, but if Keith thought too much about that, he might be tempted to run away.

He parked his truck in its usual spot next to the curb and psyched himself up, telling himself that he could _do_ this.

He got himself ready, then got out of his truck and picked his way through the garden, which was mostly brown, but still marked by leafy pumpkin and squash plants, their fruits looking almost ripe for the picking.

Holding his breath, Keith knocked on the blue door.

“Who is it?” he heard called from inside.

“Um, I have a package here for a Mr. Lance Mcclain, from Keith Kogane. It’s sign-only, so if you don’t come get it I’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

He heard footsteps, then the screen door opening. And then Lance was standing in the doorway, his eyes widening in surprise. “Keith?” He looked a bit haggard, bags under his eyes to match Pidge’s, and stubble roughening his cheeks that Keith had _never_ seen before. Lance had always put effort into his appearance.

“Um… it’s two packages, really. But, they’re, um, both from the same person.”

His face was already starting to heat up, so he’d better finish this before he became too nervous to speak.

He pulled his left hand out from behind his back, producing a small bouquet. “Umm, I wanted to say… I’m sorry for leaving you hanging like that. I was an idiot, and didn’t realize that you were flirting with me. I thought I was getting my hopes up for no reason. There’s, um, red and yellow roses, since I’m always happy while I’m here, and the yellow roses are also for apologies… and other stuff, too, but that’s what I’m using them for. And eglantine rose, since I didn’t mean to hurt you, and some rainflower, too.”

Stunned, Lance hesitantly took the bouquet from Keith’s left hand.

Freed of that burden, Keith pulled out a second bouquet, this time in his right hand. This one was much bigger, exploding with color.

“Um, and this one’s too big for me to go through every single flower, but I think you know what they all mean better than I do.”

He’d carefully chosen every flower, even arranged it himself. Some of them were reciprocates of flowers that Lance had given him: white violets, variegated tulips (but Keith’s were white and pink rather than yellow and red), linaria bipartita, and bright sparks of blue from the bunches of forget-me-nots. But many of them were new, flowers not to be found in their garden: ambrosia flowers, red carnations, sprigs of purple lilac, curves of white-and-yellow plumerias. And each one had its own special meaning, but all of it spun together to create one main message:

It was hard for Keith to deliver his heart to Lance. But he could at least do it with flowers.

“And, um, my phone number’s in there, too. In the card. So we can talk without me coming all the way out here.”

He was about to explode. Please, Lance, say something before he spontaneously combusts.

But instead of saying anything, Lance was wrapping his arms around Keith, draping himself around him, flowers and all. Keith could smell them-- lilacs and forget-me-nots and roses and _Lance_ , all the best scent he’d ever encountered.

And then Lance was pulling away, shifting both bouquets to one hand and grabbing Keith’s hand with the other, pulling him into the house with a smile that could have turned fall into spring again.

“I love you too, delivery boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be a short, dorky one-shot, but it got away from me, lol. So it'll be a couple chapters. When I first thought of the "delivery boy" AU, I wasn't sure if I wanted Lance or Keith to be the delivery boy, since whichever one it was would have a completely different story. I liked both of them, so I decided to write both. This one, obviously, is the Keith-as-the-delivery-boy version. :D


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